


Most Distinguished Guest

by gaydaydreamer



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, F/F, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Mind Games, Moral Ambiguity, Stockholm Syndrome, kinda??, very little plot mostly smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 21:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydaydreamer/pseuds/gaydaydreamer
Summary: Bright Moon is decidedly less bright than she remembers, but the severity of it's sovereign is just as sweet





	Most Distinguished Guest

**Author's Note:**

> alternate ending/continuation of 2x07 where Shadow Weaver is captured and things,, get sexy, (not necessarily in this chapter but, you know, eventually)
> 
> this is told from Shadow Weaver's pov at the moment, which should serve as a warning unto itself

When Angella first visits, she is pacing in her cell. Though she had obviously not intended to be captured in Bright Moon, a cell large enough to pace in, and the ability to pace seeing as how she is no longer chained to the wall like a beast, is a marked improvement from her imprisonment in the Fright Zone. The Queen hasn’t taken very long to pay her a visit-- judging by her meal cycles it’s only been a day or so since they caught her. She strides right up to the metal bars (how stupid of them to think a physical barrier could hold something like her, but then again they must have realized she is quite without her powers at the moment) with a confident, almost sensual swagger, her head held high and her expression infuriatingly inscrutable. It’s been a long time since they last saw each other, but Angella is still as breathtakingly beautiful and ageless as the day they met. Unlike Catra, she does not bother with the pretense of carrying out a task any half-witted guard could do. As pragmatic and candid as she is, it probably didn’t even occur to her to appear under false pretenses. Shadow Weaver chuckles to herself. How little has changed.

She halts her pacing and turns her attention to the woman in front of her. “Angella,” she drawls, “how nice of you to drop by.”

Her jaw twitches. Excellent. “ _Your Majesty,_ ” she corrects, tersely.

“No need to address me by title dear, Shadow Weaver will do.” Angella remains still but there is an unmistakable fury dancing in her eyes, and she is glad for her mask to hide the grin that splits her face. “Or _Light Spinner_ , if you’re feeling particularly sentimental,” she adds, nearly giddy with the pleasure of so easily getting a rise out of the Queen.

Angella crosses her arms over her chest. “Adjusting well to your new home, _prisoner?_ ” Shadow Weaver chuckles low in her throat. So she does want to play after all, how wonderful. “I must say, you look good behind bars.” Her voice drips with venom, sending a pleasant prickle down Shadow Weaver’s spine.

“Not as good as your daughter looked chained to my wall I’m sure.” Oooh, that touches a nerve. Her face immediately twists into a lovely scowl and her wings flare to almost their full span, as sparks hiss around her clenched fists. There is a particular thrill that Shadow Weaver always used to feel on the receiving end of her ire, and she’s more than pleased to discover time hasn’t diminished it. Maybe Angella will even attempt to strike her, now that would be interesting. “I’m assuming she’s made a full recovery from our little encounter? Princesses can be such fragile things, I wouldn’t want to--”

“You almost killed her!” The Queen is seething now, and energy crackles along the smooth fabric of her gloves, her wings fully extended with every feather bristled. She can see the tears forming in the corners of Angella’s eyes, and as fun as it is to tease her, it isn’t quite as satisfying to see her genuinely upset.

It seems, if she doesn’t want this conversation to end altogether, Shadow Weaver will have to concede. “She nearly killed _herself_ trying to teleport out of her restraints.” This seems to take the wind out of her a little bit, and the brilliant magic circling her fingers dissipates. “I never touched her,” she sighs, trying to balance her tone so it falls somewhere between exasperated and mollifying. Although this is the truth, she _had_ taken perverse pleasure in watching the little Princess writhe helplessly in her clutches.

Angella doesn’t respond, or even look at her, content to gaze in misty-eyed rage at the space between the furthermost bar and the adjoining wall. Her wings droop, and Shadow Weaver notices for the first time how tired she looks, how...old. Motherhood and its accompanying temperaments baffle her, though she supposes, if it were Adora… She sighs again, cautiously slinking to the edge of her cage, as close as she can get to where Angella stands. Close enough to touch, though she shouldn’t push her luck, not yet. “She would not have even been there if I had any say in it.” But it _had_ gotten her Adora. And knowing this, she’d eagerly do it again, but the Queen didn’t need to know that part. Angella glances up, the glazed fury in her eyes having somewhat receded. “Besides,” she whispers, practically right in her ear, and to her satisfaction she can feel the Queen shiver, “it was you I was really after.” Honey and bile, the combination hasn’t failed her yet. _Adora and Angella._ If she plays her cards right, she is in the perfect position to have both.

However, Angella turns away, wrinkling her nose and taking a physical step back from the bars. “You smell appalling.”

She shrugs. “My cell in the Fright Zone didn’t have a toilet, much less anywhere to bathe.”

At this Angella’s eyes widen, and Shadow Weaver curses her loose lips. Of course she couldn’t have known that she spent several weeks as Hordak’s prisoner before she fled. But her tone is soft when she says, to Shadow Weaver’s astonishment, “would you like to?” She clears her throat, staring pointedly at her with one eyebrow raised, “bathe, that is.”

She huffs, of course _bathe_ what else could she mean? She makes a show of strolling to the other end of her cell, dragging her fingertips along the bars with thoughtful languor, as if being presentable again isn’t something she desperately craves. “Well, as content as I am to wallow in my own filth for the next--”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” she sneers, “obviously.” Shadow Weaver inhales, trying to mitigate her temper. It _has_ been a long time since she’d last spoken to Angella, and she must admit that she’s lost a certain...finesse when it comes to handling her. Needling her about the brat is clearly off the table, she wonders if the same holds true for her late husband. And there is the matter of Adora, the reason she deigned to show her face (figuratively speaking) in Bright Moon in the first place. All things considered, this stint in the rebel prison is destined to try her patience, but she has certainly faced worse. And when has Shadow Weaver ever backed down from a challenge?

Angella clasps her hands together with finality. “I’ll have someone draw a bath then, and be back shortly to escort you.” Her eyes roam over the holding cell, raking over Shadow Weaver’s disheveled form, and when she catches her staring back, gives her a vicious smile. “Don’t go anywhere,” she says before turning elegantly on her heel and striding away down the corridor.

Once her footsteps have faded completely, Shadow Weaver collapses back onto her cot, grinning beneath her mask like an idiot, skin tingling deliciously, feeling _alive_ for the first time in months.

 

**Author's Note:**

> what am I even doing here??? I have a lot of other She-Ra fics that I'd been neglecting while I struggled with p&n part II so expect more of those before anything else.
> 
> As usual I live for attention so slam that mf kudos and say something nice to me if you feel like it


End file.
